I'm Booorrrreeeeddd

Just got off the phone with Dr. Moo, who is busy and can't talk. "Did you take your Ritalin today," she asked. Why yes, I did, and I rearranged my sock and underwear drawers and cleaned my desk and paid my bills. "Well, you didn't post on your blog today." I told her nothing happened at Thanksgiving and then she reminded me that one of my goat farming relatives requested that my sister cut out the vocal cords of her goats because the males were locked up while in heat and were bleating and some hunters mistook the bleating goats for the cry of a fellow wounded hunter and spent hours looking for him and then once it got dark they called in the cavalry, meaning cops, firefighters, and rescue personnel.

Then around 7 the sound mysteriously stopped (because the goats went to bed) and this guy my mother was engaged to before she was engaged to my dad, who lives behind the house of one of my cousins, just down the road from the goat farming relations, said "Did you think to check out the goat farmers?" And so on my goat farming relations' doorstep appear the cops, who discover there is no missing hunter, just a bunch of randy goats.

And no, Moo will not be cutting out any goat vocal cords.